


This is All Your Fault

by rw_eaden



Series: Birthday Drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Dean Winchester, Enemies to Lovers, Kinda?, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, True Mates, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: Dean was having one of those days, and it was only going to get worse now that he had to drop his stupid neighbour's cat back off at his apartment because that's when his heat hit.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [destielonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielonfire/gifts).



It was Tuesday, and this kinda shit always happened on Tuesdays. Just that morning, Dean had overslept, spilled coffee all over his shirt front, and nearly got side swiped by some asshole on the freeway. Work wasn’t great either. He wound up slicing his hand open on an engine block and smacking the back of his head on the hood of the car when he jerked up and away.  He ended up giving the convertible he was working on to Jo because he couldn’t get the damn hoses to fit no matter which ones he used and he was right on the cusp of chucking a wrench into the damn thing. And, on top of all that shit, he felt like he had bugs crawling around under his skin all day, a sure sign that in the next few days his heat would hit. And that was just peachy.

When Dean finally made it home around six the first thing he did was strip. His clothes were already starting to bother him. He might have another few days before he had to worry about his heat.  Perhaps it was because he was getting older, but his heats had been getting progressively worse. He’d had normal heats ever since he presented at sixteen, nothing that a few days off work, masturbation, and a quart of Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked couldn’t handle, but recently they had been getting more intense. In the past year, he’d had three, each of them leaving him more desperate and worn out than the last. Four months ago, he had almost been tempted to find himself an alpha, any alpha, just to make the ache under his skin stop. He didn’t think he was getting ready for menopause, he was only 30 after all, but it wasn’t impossible. Maybe there was just something messing with his hormones, like another omega moving in somewhere in the building, or maybe he’d been eating too many grains – he’d heard eating too many carbs could affect hormone levels. Whatever it was, Dean needed to get to a doctor soon, if for no other reason than to get on some stronger birth control.

Dean stepped into the shower and scrubbed himself down until his skin was red. Most of the grease was gone from his hands and forearms, but there were still ugly black stains around and under his fingernails. He loved working with cars, but god did he hate the grease. It stuck around in the creases of his fingers unless he scrubbed them raw, and manicures always failed to provide a permanent solution. It was frustrating, but next, to quitting his well-paying job, there was nothing he could do about it.

He patted himself dry and walked back into his bedroom to find a pair of bright golden eyes staring at him in the low light.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself, turning on the overhead light and illuminating the whole room. In the middle of his bed, sitting on top of his only clean pair of sweats sat a fat, fluffy tortoiseshell cat.

“How the hell did you get in here?” He groaned.

The cat just continued to stare and Dean groaned, running his hand through his still damp hair. The cat belonged to the guy who lived in the apartment below him, the one that Dean couldn’t stand. Dean usually got along well with all of his neighbors, but this guy,  _Castiel_ , was a freaking pain in the ass. He let his cat roam the apartment complex, even after Dean had told him several times that he was allergic to cats and would really prefer it if he didn’t have to wake up feeling like he’d sandpapered this throat every morning. Sure, Dean had started taking allergy meds every night, but it was the principle of the thing.

And, every once in a while he’d step out on the tiny balcony of his apartment to see the guy doing yoga, bare ass naked on his own balcony. The first time he was greeted by the sight of the guy’s ass sticking straight out in the air, Dean nearly dropped his coffee cup. As it was he was startled enough to squawk a little too loudly and jump backward, causing some of the hot liquid to fall out of his cup and through the metal grate floor of the balcony. Castiel yelped and jumped up, staring up at Dean through the grate that separated them.

“Did you just spit on me?” He growled.

“No. What? Its coffee,” Dean said, gesturing to his cup and jostling more coffee out, this time all over his own hand.  

“Why did you pour coffee on me, dickhead?”

“I didn’t pour coffee on you. I spilled. You startled me with your naked ass hanging out for god and everybody to see.”

Castiel then smirked up at him, placing his hands on his hips, swaying from side to side just a little. Dean couldn’t help that his eyes were drawn to the man’s naked dick. And holy shit, even flaccid the dude was hung. Must be an alpha.

“I startled you? Like what you see then?” Castiel asked.

“Hey, fuck you, dude. I’m just trying to enjoy my morning without some weirdo hanging his junk out where children could see,” Dean said.

“The human body is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, maybe not, but I didn’t ask for a full view of your family jewels at ten o’clock in the morning. Have some common curtesy, man.”

“It’s my balcony and I’ll dress or not dress however I want.”

“You’re in public!”

“You’re a prude!”

Dean rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, not wanting to get into it a fight with some hippie weirdo before his first cup of coffee. He didn’t however, want to give the guy the satisfaction of winning, so he stayed outside until he finished his coffee. Castiel continued with his naked yoga, however, doing suspiciously bendy poses that Dean was sure were more of an attempt to get on his nerves than for fitness. He did have to admit, however, that he’d never seen a grown man hold a pigeon pose for that long before.

The naked yoga did not stop, but Dean did get better about picking the appropriate times for his Saturday coffee-on-the-balcony ritual. Between the cat, the yoga and the occasional 2 am vacuuming Castiel did, Dean had his mind made up that there probably wasn’t a single person he disliked more in the entire apartment complex, if not the entire freaking town.

But now, of course, Dean was going to have to deal with Castiel again. He rolled his eyes, digging around in his drawers for some clean underwear since the damn cat was laying all over the pair he’d planned on wearing and threw them on. He put the same jeans he’d been wearing during the day back on, not bothering to dig through his other drawer for new jeans. He then took the towel he’d been wearing around his waist and threw it on the cat. The cat meowed and squirmed as Dean pulled the bundle of cat and wet towel into his arms and headed out of his apartment.

He was halfway down the stair when his head started to throb. Really, he could just set the damn cat down on the stairs and book it back up to his apartment, but he needed to give Castiel a piece of his mind. Though it probably wasn’t going to do a damn thing in the long run, but it might make him feel better.

When Dean banged on the door of Castiel’s apartment, he was fuming. The cat had decided to wiggle around just before he reached the last step and nearly launched itself out of his arms and a down the stairwell. It would have been fine, of course, it was a cat after all, but Dean had been stubborn and pulled the thing closer to his bare chest. That pissed off the cat and it scratched the shit out of his chest. He was pretty sure he was bleeding.

Castiel opened the door in nothing but a pair of white boxers and a smile. The scent of cherries and vanilla hit him like a train and he had to brace himself against the corner of the door frame. Was Castiel making dessert or was that his natural smell? In all the times that they’d spoken he’d never noticed it before.

“You’re not the pizza man,” he stated, his smile falling.

“Nope. I’m the obnoxious feline delivery man,” Dean said, holding the cat, still half in his towel, out to Castiel.

“I wouldn’t call you obnoxious. A little high strung perhaps, but not obnoxious.”

Dean scoffed. “Would you just take your damn cat? I found it in my room on my bed rubbing its fuzzy ass all over my clothes.”

Castiel reached out extracted the cat from the towel, scratching the top of its head as he held it to his own chest like an infant. The cat purred as it butted its head against Castiel’s hand.

“What were your clothes doing on the bed? That’s what hampers are for.”

“Yeah, I know that. I was in the shower. But it shouldn’t matter anyway. If I wanted to keep my clothes in the kitchen I should be able to without worrying about getting cat hair all over them. You keep your stupid fluffy ball of dander and fleas in your own apartment.” He stuck a single finger in Castiel’s face, which he batted away with a scowl.

“Cat doesn’t have fleas.”

“Cat? Seriously? You didn’t even name the damn thing?”

“Of course I named her. Cat. It’s short for Catherine.”

“Why the hell did you name your cat Catherine?”

Castiel shrugged, setting the cat down on the floor. She weaved back and forth between his legs, purring loudly as she did. “My grandmother was named Catherine.”

Dean groaned and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Look, dude, whatever, just keep your damn cat…” Before Dean could finish his sentence his knees buckled. A sudden twist in his gut hit him out of nowhere, leaving his gasping and scrambling for anything to hang on to. Luck for him, Castiel was there in an instant, reaching out and steading Dean has he fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, weaving into Dean’s space and searching his face, probably for some sign of distress.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, waving him off. His vision was blurry and his head was spinning. He didn’t feel like he was about to pass out, but this was definitely a strange feeling.

“Can you stand?” Castiel asked as he tried to pull Dean to his feet. Dean wavered but was able to stand.

“Do you feel like you’re about to pass out?” Castiel asked, bracing Dean’s arm around himself. Dean just shook his head but wobbled as he tried to step backward. Castiel was having none of it, and ushered Dean inside his apartment, depositing him on the couch before head off to the kitchen.

Dean was faintly aware of the sound of the kitchen faucet and Castiel’s bare feet slapping against the linoleum. His whole head was fuzzy and could feel the sweat beading up on his upper lip. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t decide if he was dying or if he was headed for the worst heat of his life, here in the apartment of a man he couldn’t stand.

Castiel was back, tipping a cool glass of water against his lips. Dean drank like he was parched, downing half of it before Castiel took it away.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked, pressing the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, falling back into the soft cushions of the couch. It was some ratty old thrift store thing, judging by the wear of the seafoam green fabric.

“Do you need me to call someone?” Castiel asked. Dean was drifting, listening to the soft rumble of Castiel’s voice. It was low, patient, soothing, almost like his cat’s purring. Maybe that was why Castiel liked the cat.

“Dean!” Castiel snapped, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and shaking. All at once Dean’s body stiffened. He whimpered, sitting up straight and looking Castiel in the eye.

“Dean, you need to tell me what’s going on here,” Castiel said.

Dean shuddered and a sudden wave of warmth washed over him. “Cas, I…”

Castiel stiffened, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he sniffed the air. “You’re…Dean, are you in heat?”

“What? No. I shouldn’t be.”

“Do you want me to help you back to your apartment? Is there anyone I can call to have them look after you?”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m not some needy little omega who has to be looked after. I’m thirty fucking years old, I can take care of myself,” Dean grumbled, rising to his feet and immediately falling back down when his head started to spin.

“Right,” Castiel said, pushing Dean back onto the couch.

Dean let himself be pushed, but he didn’t let a whine escape his lips. Fuck, what was going on with him? He’d never been hit so hard by his heat before and it was starting to freak him out. On top of that, he was sitting in the living room of one person he really couldn’t stand. Still, Castiel’s presence did seem to make it a little better. At least he wasn’t alone like this.

“You lay here, I’m gonna, uh, see if I have something. I’ll be right back,” Castiel said, before dashing out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Dean didn’t have time to say anything. He just lay on his back, staring up at the rough stucco of the ceiling, waiting for his body to stop freaking out. He should probably call a doctor or something. Fuck, he was probably going to end up in the hospital, wasn’t he? Would the doctors want to sedate him for the next week? Were they going to suggest a hysterectomy? Fuck, he’d never be able to have his own kids then. What was the point of all this fucking pain if he wasn’t even going to get the benefit of getting pregnant and having his own babies? What if it was worse than that? What if he was going to die? What if he was dying right now? Had anyone ever died because of their heat? He was pretty sure people could. Fuck.

“Dean, calm down.” Castiel was back at his side, this time, brushing against his cheeks with his thumbs.

Dean took a deep, stuttering breath and sat up. “Cas?”

“I’m here, Dean. What’s going on?”

Dean took a few more deep breaths, leaning into Castiel’s hand on his cheek. He hadn’t realized how fast his heart was beating or that he had been crying. The strong scent of tart cherries flooded his nose, and he couldn’t help the way his mouth watered.

“You smell like pie filling,” Dean slurred. He opened his eyes, blinking lazily a few times before the world around him came into focus. Castiel was right up in his space, eyes squinted, searching Dean’s face.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked.

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. He was feeling pretty good right now. Not perfect, but he wasn’t freaking out anymore. And that weird fuzziness in his head was starting to go away. The warmth and desire flooding through his body, though, wasn’t going away.

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you almost passed out twice and I came back and you were in tears.”

“No, I really feel better, now,” Dean said, pushing Castiel’s hand away. As he did, a low growl escaped Castiel’s lips, and he reeled back, eyes wide. Dean stiffened, fighting the urge to bow his head.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I don’t know what came over me.”

Dean squinted, wanting to draw back but being unable to. One part of him wanted to get up and leave, to get the hell out of the apartment and get home and deal with the inevitable torture of the next week on his own, but another, baser part of himself wanted to pull another low growl out of Castiel. He was an alpha after all, sure, Dean couldn’t stand him, but he could just forget that for a few days. Plus the guy smelled like dessert.

“Alpha…” The word slipped past Dean’s lips before he was even conscious his lips were moving.

Castiel perked up. His chest puffed out and a thin ring of red bled into his irises. “Dean, no. I’m going to call the neighbors and help you get back to your apartment.”

Castiel rose to his feet. As he turned to leave, Dean whined. Castiel stilled.

“Dean, please, get ahold of yourself,” Castiel said, his voice trembling. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

Dean gulped. “Why not?”

Castiel turned his head slowly, glaring at Dean from over his shoulder. “Dean…”

Dean lowered his head, whimpering, and all at once it was as if the energy in the room exploded. Castiel turned at lunged at Dean, rocking the couch when he landed. His lips latched onto Dean’s and the two were caught up in a fevered kiss. It was all tongue and teeth and whines and growls. Dean’s hands were fisted in Castiel’s hair, and Castiel hissed every time Dean pulled the silky strands.

Castiel pulled back first, his chest heaving. “Dean, tell me right now that you don’t want to do this.”

“If you stop I’ll hate you forever,” Dean said, chasing after Castiel’s lips.

“You hate me already.”

“No, I hate your stupid naked yoga and your stupid cat,” Dean said, thrusting his hips up, dragging his groin across the growing bulge in Castiel’s boxers.

Castiel groaned low in his throat. He thrust back. “You’re no peach yourself, Dean.”

Castiel sank back down, thrusting his tongue in Dean’s mouth, licking at his teeth before pulling back and biting at Dean’s bottom lip. Dean moaned, arching forward. Castiel kicked one of his legs off the couch and slotted a thigh between Dean’s legs, then ground down.

“You play your god awful rock music at all hours,” he hissed as he rolled his hips, “you constantly have people stomping around that apartment of yours,” he leaned down to nip at Dean’s earlobe, “and if that’s not bad enough to smell like sex and forest,” he bit at Dean’s neck hard enough to bruise.

Dean cried out, his nails digging into Castiel’s scalp. “God, please, shut up and fuck me already,” Dean groaned, breathless. His skin was on fire and he was sure he’d soaked through his underwear by now. The slow, dirty roll of Castiel’s hips was wonderful, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Please, please, please,” Dean was babbling now, hissing and whining incoherent nonsense.

Castiel took mercy on him, pulling back and unsnapping Dean’s jeans and jerking down the zipper before pulling both his jeans and boxers down around his ankles. Dean was able to kick them off while Castiel rose up on his knees, shimming out of his own boxers.

Dean’s mouth watered when he took in the sight of Castiel’s cock arching upwards on his stomach, thick and heavy. Dean reached out to touch it and Castiel smacked his hand away. He then let his hands trail up Dean’s legs, nails scratching against the inside of his thighs as he pushed them open.

Dean let his head fall back against the arm of the couch as Castiel dove down, licking up the shaft of Dean’s erection as his hands traveled towards the soft flesh of his ass. Dean groaned, letting his hands fall into the soft locks of Castiel’s hair then down to his shoulders when Castiel separated the globes of his ass. His slender fingers slid in the cleft of his ass before sliding through his slick and towards his rim. Castiel teased at him, alternating between soft, barely there strokes while he lapped at the head of Dean’s dick and quick, firm presses just breaking though his hole while he sucked at Dean’s balls.

“God, please,” Dean whined, “I swear to God, Cas if you don’t get on with it I’ll…” Dean cut himself off with a high pitched gasp when Castiel thrust two fingers inside him.

“You’ll what?” Cas asked, smirking.

Dean just shook his head, beyond words at that point. Cas gave him a moment to adjust before he started scissoring his fingers, thrusting in and out. Dean whimpered, burying his face in the arm of the couch.

Then, all at once it was over. Cas’s fingers were gone and so has the heat of his mouth. When Dean looked up, Cas was staring down at him, eyes red and chest heaving, trembling hands on Dean’s knees. Dean let out a silent sigh, nodding.

Castiel was thick, even for an alpha, that much he could tell just by the brief glances he had gotten when Cas had finally removed his boxers, but Dean was not totally prepared for the feel of him. Cas pushed through the right ring of muscle and into Dean’s channel and he keened, high and pitiful, back arching off the couch. Dear God, it felt good. So much fucking better than that fake plastic shit he’d used to get through his other heats. Fuck, why hadn’t he thought of this sooner?

Castiel chuckled as he pushed in further, rubbing small circles on Dean’s stomach and chest. He gave Dean a few moments and slow rolls of his hips to get used to the intrusion before he pulled back and thrust back in.

Dean moaned, on hand fisting in his own hair as Cas continued to spear into him. God, it was good, but it was too fucking slow and not nearly hard enough. As much as Dean loved to draw sex out that wasn’t what he needed. He needed it hard and fast and he needed it now.

Dean drew his feet up, resting his ankles against the small of Cas’s back, urging him forwards. Castiel refrained, keeping up the slow, deep slide. Dean growled in frustration, clawing at Cas’s shoulders.

“What do you need? Tell me,” Cas groaned, throwing his head back. His eyes were squeezed tight, and Dean could feel his shoulders tense.

“Fuck me,” Dean growled. “Give it to me, alpha.”

Cas’s eyes lids fluttered as he drew back and thrust in again, this time, harder. Dean yelped and dug his nails into Cas’s shoulders.

“Was that…?” Cas breathed.

“Do it again.”

So he did, but this time, he didn’t stop. He continued to pound into Dean, his hips slapping against Dean’s ass obscenely. He started growling sometime around the time Dean started to lose control of the yowling moans he was making.

“This what you wanted?” Cas hissed through his teeth.

Dean whimpered, nodding furiously as his nails sunk into the flesh of Castiel’s back. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of orgasm, the nearly painful tingle in his stomach and thighs growing stronger with every push. It wasn’t until he felt the swell of Cas’s knot tugging at the base of his rim that he knew it was what he needed.

“Alpha, alpha, please,” Dean whined.

“What do you need?”

“Knot me, God, Cas, please. I need it.”

Cas huffed, dipping his forehead to Dean’s chest before nodding. He latched his lips to Deans as he pushed in one final time, his knot pushing past Dean’s rim. Dean threw his head back, coming with a scream as Castiel’s release surged inside him.

The both lay there, silent for a while as they caught their breaths and the hazy of Dean’s heat dropped off.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean sighed, dragging a hand across his face.

Castiel propped himself up with and elbow on Dean’s chest and squinted at him.

“I wasn’t expecting that. Like, at all,” Dean said.

“My apologies,” Castiel said, squirming to get as much space between the two of them as possible.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were pretty nice, you know, considering,” Dean swept a hand over himself.

“Still, I apologize. I’ve never been like that before. I’ve never had so strong an…” he gulped, “urge.”

“Well, that makes two of us I guess.”

“There must be something in this building. A territorial alpha, perhaps. I haven’t had such strong ruts since I moved in about a year ago.”

Dean reeled back slightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not in one now. You’d know. I should have a few more days, I think. Regardless, you should probably leave as soon as…”

“So this is all your fault then!” Dean said, snorting.

“I, uh.” Cas’s face fell, but Dean tipped his chin up to look him in the eyes.

“I have never had a heat this bad ever in my entire life. They’ve only been this bad in the past year.”

He could practically see the wheels in Cas’s head turning before his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “So does this mean what I think it means?” He asked.

“Yeah, no more fuckin’ naked yoga,” Dean said.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this.  
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.  
> If you wanna come talk to me, I'm [over here](http://rosemoonweaver.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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